


Beliefs of Sorrow

by Stephanielikes



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Anilingus, Bottom Sam, First Time, Incest, M/M, Massage, Rimming, Short Story, Top Dean, sodomy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-08
Updated: 2014-09-08
Packaged: 2018-02-16 14:22:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2273067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stephanielikes/pseuds/Stephanielikes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam would give everything for Dean to be happy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beliefs of Sorrow

**Author's Note:**

> Sam is 28. Dean is 33.

                The musty linen scent mixed with the yeasty smell of sleep sweat; slowly, Sam became aware of his own even breathing, the stiff cotton pillowcase pressed against his cheek, and, the main thing that had woken him, the warm heat of Dean straddling his back side. It took every ounce of self control Sam possessed at whatever o’clock in the morning this forsaken hour was not to press his ass back into his brother’s groin. More than a decade had passed since he’d last awoken pinned to the mattress under Dean, not since Sam’d gotten big enough to flip Dean onto the floor. If he remembered correctly, and Sam certainly couldn’t guarantee he recalled last night accurately, never mind 13 years ago, but if he did, then the last time Dean wrestled his little brother awake ended with Dean alternately laughing and pleading at the locked bathroom door.

_“I’m sorry, Sammy. I didn’t think you’d take it so hard.”_  
_“Fuck off, Dean!”_  
_“Don’t be like that. It happens to all of us. I can give you a few pointers on how to handle it.”_  
_“Oh, my God! Go. Away!”_  
_If Dean made another retort it was lost in the sound of rushing water as Sam cranked the shower on as cold as it would run._

                This time started shamefully similar to the last. Sam didn’t want his brother, not really, not in that way. What Sam wanted was to not be a burden or, failing that as he did everything else, he wanted to be worth the burden, to give back in some small way the life and energy he leached. Hence why, when Sam really worried about being more than Dean could bear, he found himself wanting Dean to sink into him, use him, and fall asleep contented because of him. Times like when he was 15 and sure Dean would wise up to John’s bullshit and split, abandoning him with their father. Or that terrible year Sam drank and fought his way through. Or now when he could barely tell left from right and he saw the light in Dean’s eyes fade more every day.

                Which wires were frayed and crossed, making Sam skip straight to ‘fuck me until I’m worth it’ without even a rest stop in ‘we’re related,’ could probably be an entire field of psychology. While the psychologists were at it, they could figure out why he stiffened and throbbed at the idea of getting his brother off as if Dean’s pleasure commanded his cock.

                While Sam’s drowsy, scrambled brain fumbled with deciding if he should kick Dean off or just fall back asleep, breath-warmed hands slid under his t-shirt and rough thumbs rubbed the small of his back.

                “’cha doin’?”

                “Had to pee and when I could literally see how tense you were… figured, I’ve seen enough films, I can fix that. “ Dean chuckled. “Sorry if it gets too porny.”

                Disguising the shiver and thrust that travelled down his spine into his groin as a cough, Sam imagined he heard a gasp when his ass glanced his brother’s balls.

                “Mtime’s it?” Sam asked out of the side of his mouth, nuzzling into the pillow.

                “Early.” Dean massaged up Sam’s back.

                Sam dozed while Dean squeezed and kneaded the rock hard knots. Cool air kissed his bare back when Dean yanked his shirt out of the way. Sam shivered and blinked making a lazy effort to wake up. Starting just below shoulder blades, Dean pressed thumbs on either side of Sam’s backbone and rolled through to the heels of his hands before moving a hand’s width lower and repeating. A sleep drunk smile spread across Sam’s face. Dean pressed his palms up to where he started and worked back down but further from the center. He chopped back up and started back down, dipping lower with each pass; Sam’s dick noticed and twitched against his thigh. When the elder made it to the last inch of back, the younger held his breath, eyes closed but senses hyper-vigilant. Dean knuckled small circles a whisper above the waistband of Sam’s boxer-briefs. He seemed to hesitate then he palmed the top swell of Sam’s buttocks and gave a test squeeze.

                Sam inhaled sharply, “D-“

                “Let me take care of you.” Dean’s voice trembled bearing a question hidden in the command.

                In answer, Sam dipped his chin shallowly: a tentative nod. Dean shimmied further down his thighs; the hard line Sam felt slide over his rear had to be a phantom feeling – the ghost of what he thought his brother’s cock would feel like. Nervous and a little giddy, he pursed his lips and clenched his eyes as Dean sneaked index fingers under the band of his Jockeys and yanked. His underwear tucked under his bare buttocks, Sam pulled his bottom lip between his teeth and used all of his rapidly depleting willpower not to moan and buck when Dean rubbed and parted his ass cheeks. Sam’s thoughts scattered so far and so wide that the sum effect was he had none at all. The strangely euphoric feeling of flat-lining eased what little apprehension remained away.

                Working up Sam’s long body, Dean rocked the kinks from Sam’s muscles. When he reached where the hiked up shirt rested, he snaked his hands beneath the fabric, and leaned forward to press heavily. The warmth of his cock resting on Sam’s ass pulled the younger from his restful hypnotic peace. Sam tensed his shoulders and sucked air over his teeth as if branded by a hot iron.

                “It’s okay. I know.” Dean extracted one of his hands from beneath the shirt and brushed stray hairs behind Sam’s ear. Dean smelled of 40-year old car interior and cheap motel soap. Every sense in Sam screamed ‘home.’ “I’m not blind, Sammy.”

                Sam listened for a slur in his brother’s speech, or any indication that he wasn’t in his right mind. Dean sounded in complete possession of all his faculties. Before Sam could process other signs, the wet sound of lips sucking filled his world. Two spit soaked fingers trailed his spine, cresting the swell of his ass and gliding down his crack. Hugging his pillow to his face, Sam filled his mouth with rough cotton stuffed with polyfill. Dean massaged one finger over Sam’s asshole and pushed the pad just deep enough to feel the flutter of muscles as Sam tried to open up for him. It was harder than Sam expected. His cock leaked a sticky smear of pre-come on his thigh and his body ached to be penetrated, but each time he relaxed and felt his sphincter loosen it immediately clenched and the tension returned.

                “Would you rather pitch?"

                Dean’s offer sent a carnal wave of electricity tingling though Sam, revealing a darker desire that he had no intention of analyzing though he wasn't beyond entertaining it.

                “This.” Sam rasped finally. He hadn’t brought himself to look at his brother yet, but he pictured Dean’s cocky smile, and had to look back to see it in reality. Spending their whole lives together in abnormally intimate settings had taught Sam to read the nuances of Dean’s expression. That smile wasn’t for show, it wasn’t masking fear, hid no doubt. It was free and pure, the same unrestrained joy Dean beamed with when given pie. Not even the flushed, erect dick could have convinced Sam that Dean wasn’t just doing this out of a twisted sense of obligation, but that shit eating grin did. Despite the awkward angle, Sam watched Dean contemplate his next move before Dean caught Sammy’s eye and licked his lips. Sam’s ears burned and he turned away, his heart pounding and prick throbbing.

                Chills ran outward from the slide of sweat damp thighs over his goose-bumped skin as Dean scooched back to straddle Sam’s knees. His brother bent forward, rested his elbows on either side of his hips and spread him open. Dean licked over Sam’s entrance; his tongue broad, wet and soft.

                “Dean!” Sam cried out, jerking forward.

                “No good?”

                Dizzy with arousal, Sam gulped air. It was supposed to be for Dean’s pleasure, not his. “You don’t. I want.”

                “Say it, Sammy.”

                This might be something new between them but Dean would always be Dean and take an older brother’s delight in the younger’s playful humiliation. Dean absolutely would get Sam to say it out loud. He licked again.

                “I want!” Sam gasped. “Use me.”

                “What?” The hint of disgust rose in Dean’ voice.

                “Don’t worry about me. Fuck me until you come. I –“ He hesitated, “I need you to be happy, Dean.” Sam hoped Dean understood he didn’t mean just now, but this was the only moment in his power to grant.

                His brother’s hot breath cooled the saliva covering Sam’s hole. “I’m happy when you’re happy.” Dean swiped his tongue over Sam’s rim one more time, then he pressed his lips around the ring and sucked gently, swirling his tongue in the center. Sam bit his pillow again stifling the moan. Dean stiffened the tip and pushed it in as far as his finger had been.

                “Oh. God.” Sam panted. Dean pulled back, licking softly again before moving in close and thrusting as much of his tongue into Sam as was humanly possible. Sam shoved back into it, and cracked Dean’s nose.

                “Shit.” Dean swore.

                “’M sorry!”

                “It’s fine, but if you’re going to be frisky, I need to adjust.” Dean laid down with Sam’s legs between his own and his chest on Sam’s thighs. He rested more of his weight on Sam’s hips as he parted Sam’s ass and dove back in, fucking in and out of Sam as if trying to stab him to death. Pinned tighter, Sam let go, bucking back onto his brother’s tongue. After a dozen or so thrusts, Dean stopped to softly lick at the sloppy ring and nip the sensitive folds. A large bead of pre-come soaked into Sam’s underwear. Dean pushed his tongue in again. Pleasure coiled in the pit of Sam’s stomach and the tension rose in his pelvis. He was going to come from Dean eating out his ass. That was until Dean stopped.

                “Not so fast, big guy. I want to fuck you first.”

                “Do it.” Sam pleaded withdrawing from the edge of orgasm.

                “Feel you come on my cock.”

                “Quick.” He tried to spread his legs.

                “Nahuh. Like this.” Dean crawled up Sam, planting his knees at thigh level. Dean exhaled deeply. “Ready?”

                Sam answered by dropping his hips and presenting his ass. He heard Dean spitting followed by the squelch of Dean slicking his dick in it. Pushing one ass cheek open, Dean lined the spongy head of his cock to Sam’s tight asshole. Sam was on the verge of hyperventilating and slowed his rapid breathing.

                Dean chuckled, “I’ll go in the back.”

                Sam couldn’t be annoyed with Dean’s weird humour. If Dean hadn’t said anything Sam would be less sure it really was him. Dean pushed half an inch in and Sam grunted. It fucking hurt but not nearly as bad as he’d expected, like being injured in a dream. Plus, Dean randomly crawling into his bed now? Why not when they were teens and Dean was fucking everything on two legs? Why not that God forsaken year when Dean was already going to Hell anyway? Why this time? The pit dropped out of Sam’s stomach and he felt queasy. He’d made it this far on hope that it was Dean because if it wasn’t then it was…

                Dean pushed forward more and it burned, but not enough. If Sam checked now, if it was Dean, would he stop? If it _wasn’t_ , would it stop? He needed to know. Sam sought the healing cut on his left hand. Dean placed his right hand above Sam’s shoulder and ran his left up Sam’s arm. With no pillow to disentangle from, he reached the wound first and squeezed. Sam growled. It hurt, and the burn and fullness in his ass didn’t feel different from it. It was the same pain. Sam sighed in relief. Dean placed his lips to Sam’s ear.

                “You gotta trust me.” He breathed continuing to work the cut while he slid his cock further inside, letting go only when his pelvis pressed flush against Sam’s ass.

                With his asshole stretched around Dean’s girth and his rectum stuffed with dick, Sam found it easier to relax. Not just his ass, but his whole body unwound.

                “That’s it, Sammy.” Dean gave a shallow trial thrust. “Damn. You’re so fucking perfect.” He pulled back further and pushed in faster. “Christ. Come quick. I –“ A bigger rut. “Fuck me, baby boy, I’m not gonna – “ Dean grunted and froze. His panted breath hit the base of Sam’s neck. Sam cocked a half-grin, amused that – for all his boasting - Dean wasn’t going to last even two minutes. Dean held still until the crisis passed.

                Sam’s smile vanished in a shocked moan as Dean prodded his prostate on the next plunge. Once Dean found the sweet spot he stayed there as if married to it, pumping at the rhythm of a heartbeat. Sam’s mind was blown. Each slide, strike and poke sent sparks to the far reaches of every single nerve in his body. Sam whimpered and moaned as the pleasure built again. Using his elbows he steadied himself rocking back onto Dean when Dean thrust forward.

                “Sammy. Sweet Sammy.”

                The tension coiled in Sam’s balls. His extremities filled with that familiar oversensitive numbness. Sam was going to finish soon, even if Dean stopped. Shifting his support to his right arm, Dean grabbed Sam’s hip, changing his angle and slipping his cock over a less stimulated area.

                “Fuuuuuuck.”

                “Sammy?”

                “Dean.”

                “Hey, Sammy?” A hand came from nowhere and gripped Sam’s forearm. Sam jolted up and looked to the source to see Dean’s tired and worried face beside him, not behind where it should be, still pounding into his ass.

                “De-?” Sam’s orgasm cut him off. Bowling through the confusion and terror that suffused him in the vile second that realization dawned. Sam grunted, and humped, and flailed. He pulled away from the new image and tried to dislodge the old. Sam curled up on his side while the last wave of come filled and soaked his underwear.

                “Oh, God. Sam. I’m sorry! I thought you were having a seizure.”

                “Sammy.”

                Sam pushed on the grounding wound and the dick, miraculously still inside him, altered to a sickeningly familiar feel.

                “Are you okay?” Dean, the new one, the real one grabbed Sam’s wrists and tried to get his little brother to look at him.

                “Are you going to lie to him?” That hateful voice goaded, “Or will you tell him just how sick in the head you actually are?”

                Sam pressed his thumb into the scarring laceration until the cock vanished in a flicker, and the skin tore and the wound bled. It hurt. It hurt more than he ever imagined possible.

**Author's Note:**

> Specifically occurs between 07.14 Plucky Pennywhistle's Magical Menagerie and 07.15 Repo Man.


End file.
